


Promise of the Season

by Minuial_Nuwing



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Slashy Santa 2007, Third Age, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/pseuds/Minuial_Nuwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir returns to Imladris after a hastily planned sojourn in the wild, and surprises abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise of the Season

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jay of Lasgalen in the Slashy Santa Exchange 2007
> 
> Request: _Elladan and/or Elrohir with Erestor; Firelight, wine, snow outside. A Yule celebration_
> 
> A/N: Not sure whether this is a warning or an apology, but, as odd as it sounds, there is no actual twincest in this story. At least not in the physical sense. Elladan makes damn sure of _that_. There are, however, multiple references to twincestuous emotions and an implication of possible future involvement in a mild, maybe/maybe not kind of way. 
> 
> Beta: the incredible Fimbrethiel
> 
> *****************************************************************************************************

“Join us,” the group’s chieftain urged, gesturing vaguely toward the small huddle of plain but sturdy cabins visible in the distance. “The evening grows cold and your home is still hours away.” 

Elrohir smiled but shook his head, clapping the man on the shoulder amicably. “I appreciate the offer, my friend, but the night is yet young and I would reach my own bed ere I rest. On with you, now. This wind is chill, and I know you are all anxious for your fires and your families.” 

The man nodded, a smile briefly brightening his tired face. “That we are,” he agreed, looking again toward the tiny settlement, where the handful of houses and still fewer barns stood half-buried in the snow. “A blessed season to you, milord.” 

“And to you,” Elrohir replied, watching the ragged band of men make their way over the first rise before turning again to his own path. They were good people, for the most part, these men now scattered far and wide over the once uninhabited land, and they were generous with much that they had. Food, drink, tales...and occasionally their daughters. 

_‘But not their sons,’_ Elrohir thought with a wry grin, drawing his hood tighter against the snow that was again dancing in the frigid breeze. That would be too much to ask. 

The harsh winter twilight faded to misty blackness as Elrohir trudged through the drifts, his breath forming ghostly clouds amid the now heavily falling snow. The wind picked up sharply, howling through the trees that began to appear as the poorly marked path climbed higher, preparing for the treacherous plunge into the valley. Ice mixed with the pouring snow, stinging his face and eyes, even with the protection of his cloak, and he paused at the entrance of a barren cave that nonetheless offered a bit of shelter from the storm. He was, perhaps, foolish for continuing on in such weather. 

Elladan did not expect him, thinking him gone until the year’s turning, and Elrohir winced at the memory of their parting. His brother had prodded and demanded and finally begged, but the elf-knight had no answer, could not name the demon that drove him out into the wilds at a time of year they had long spent together, piled up in their shared suite with books and wine and a lifetime of memories and dreams to wile away the cold, dark evenings of the Yuletide season. Elrohir could not explain, but had gone, all the same, and Elladan, hurt and angry, his company on the road refused as well, had seen him off with scarcely a word. 

After a moment’s thought, Elrohir turned his back on the cave and his face to the wind. He had not come so far, only to spend the night holed up in the cliffs. 

The urge to return had come upon Elrohir as swiftly as the need to flee, and he had fallen in with the band of mortals returning to their homes from the year’s last trip to the nearest town. Their wallets filled with the coin paid for their furs, their packs stuffed with the luxuries that could not be easily made - soft milled flour, tea from the south, fanciful trinkets for wives and children - the men were jovial companions, and Elrohir’s spirits had lifted with every step toward his home. 

The storm gentled as he descended into the valley, the snow coming in enormous, fluffy flakes that fell softly, spinning their way down to coat both ground and trees with a blanket of glittering white. Elrohir picked his way carefully across the courtyard, entering the Last Homely House through a little-used door that opened into the back stair hall. 

A cheerful rumble of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and an occasional burst of laughter, sounded from the Hall of Fire, but Elrohir paid the merry sounds little mind, heading instead for the stairs and the second-floor suite he shared with Elladan. Now that he was home, Elrohir found himself oddly reluctant to face his brother, especially in the midst of a raucous holiday gathering. That Elladan would forgive his inexplicable flight was a given, but the elf-knight wished to offer his apology and meager excuses in the privacy of their chambers, not amid a crowd of half-drunken revelers. 

His father, he hoped, would understand. 

Elrohir pushed open the door of the sitting room that was the center of their suite and stopped dead, his pack, forgotten for the moment, falling to the floor with a dull _‘thump’_. It seemed that Elladan was not in the Hall, after all. 

Nor was Elladan alone. 

The flickering firelight glinted on raven dark hair and pale skin, shadowing intertwined limbs, casting a warm red glow over the two figures that lay sprawled in a nest of rumpled furs. It was with a start of surprise that Elrohir recognized his brother’s companion. 

_Erestor._

Elladan sat up abruptly, the kindling anger in his eyes turning to joyous amazement as he realized who had entered the chamber. “’Roh!” he cried, jumping to his feet and hastily shrugging on his robe before moving to catch his twin in a crushing embrace. “You are home!” 

Elrohir returned the embrace instinctively, his arms tightening as an echo of his brother’s delight washed over him. Elladan’s hair was tousled, his lips swollen, and his neck marred with faint ovals of red and blue. He smelled of strawberries and sex and spiced wine, and Elrohir shuddered as the lean body pressed closer. Elladan’s carelessly tied robe did nothing to hide the firebrand hardness that nudged the crease of Elrohir’s hip, and it was with a sense of dawning horror that the elf-knight felt his own body begin to react. 

_All that running, and for naught._

The thought ghosted through Elrohir’s mind and he struggled against Elladan’s hold, his senses reeling with the sudden understanding. Over his twin’s shoulder, Elrohir’s widened eyes met Erestor’s calm, compassionate gaze. 

He knew. 

Elladan brushed a chaste kiss to each of Elrohir’s cheeks, his breath warm and wine-sweet against flushed skin. “You are early, tôren,” he said, drawing back to smile at his brother. “I did not expect you until the new moon.” 

In his panic, Elrohir sought to escape his jumbled emotions and his brother’s dangerous proximity the only way he knew. “I can see that, _Elladan_ ,” he snapped, pulling away to glare at his bewildered twin. “I hurried home from fear you might be lonely, as we have always celebrated together, but I see you managed quite well. It did not take you long to find someone else to share your wine, did it? Forgive me for interrupting the festivities.” He turned to go, only to be stopped by Elladan’s hand on his arm. 

“What in the name of Elbereth ails you, ‘Roh?” Elladan demanded, his voice tinged with equal parts hurt and annoyance. “ _You_ are the one who headed out with barely a word and no explanation before the first snow fell.” He chuckled, trying to ease the tension that hung between them. “Besides, Erestor and I have hardly spent the evening in brotherly reminiscence. That pleasure is yours alone.” 

To Elladan’s astonishment, Elrohir jerked away without another word and stormed off into his bedchamber, slamming the door with a deafening crash. 

Elladan cursed soundly and made to follow, then hesitated as determined arms wrapped him from behind, pulling him back against Erestor’s body. “Let him go, ‘Adan,” Erestor said, his hands kneading Elladan’s forearms soothingly. “Give him a chance to cool off.” 

“Cool off?” Elladan demanded, moving restlessly in his lover’s embrace. “Why should he need to cool off? I am the one who was deserted without a backward glance, then attacked as though I have committed some heinous crime by trysting in my own sitting room.” 

Erestor chuckled at the exaggeration, rubbing his cheek against Elladan’s hair, but his mood sobered at the memory of the tortured yearning in Elrohir’s eyes. He had seen that look before and, though two Ages had passed, his failure to understand, to act, haunted him still. 

He would not see the tragedy of the past repeated, not without challenge. 

Nuzzling Elladan’s neck distractedly, he pondered his course. While he and Elladan enjoyed a deep friendship, a true affection born of the centuries, they were hardly in love. His own heart, to the extent that he was willing to give it, belonged to Gildor, and his young lover knew that well. Elladan, by his own admission, had yet to meet one who called to his soul. They came together simply for the pleasure of it. 

“Perhaps,” Erestor began, choosing his words carefully, “’Rohir is a bit jealous?” 

Elladan snickered breathlessly, distracted by the languid play of Erestor’s fingers around the neckline of his robe. “I did not know that he fancied you, Counselor.” 

Erestor let the remark pass. 

“Your brother has been out in the wilds, wandering alone in the cold, with only the occasional mortal for company,” he said lightly, “and he returns to find you spread before the fire, wined, dined, and sated. His annoyance and disappointment are not so hard to understand. Perhaps he hoped that you had missed him as much as he missed you.” 

Elladan bit his own lip thoughtfully. “But I _did_ ,” he protested after a moment, snuggling deeper into the warmth of Erestor’s arms. “You know that, Erestor. I could scarcely sleep for weeks after he left.” 

Erestor did, in fact, know it true. Elladan’s moonlight wanderings and sad countenance had been the impetus that brought them together. 

“We might ask him to join us,” Erestor offered cautiously, watching Elladan’s face. 

Elladan nodded. “I could call for more wine and fruit,” he said, “and perhaps some bread and cheese.” 

“You could,” Erestor replied slowly, “I am sure ‘Rohir is hungry, after his trek.” The counselor took a deep breath. “But you misunderstand me, young one.” He flicked his tongue out to trace the edge of his lover’s ear, earning a soft whimper in response. Sliding his hand over the ridged plane of Elladan’s stomach, he purposefully caressed the silk draped hardness below. “I meant perhaps we might ask him to _join us_.” 

Elladan turned and stared as though Erestor had grown another head. “He is my _brother_.” 

“He is,” Erestor agreed readily, pulling Elladan back into his arms, “but he is lovely, is he not? And he is not _my_ brother.” Nipping gently at the tender tip of an ear, he added, “Have you not always shared your toys?” 

Elladan shivered. “Aye,” he said faintly, turning his head away, but Erestor had already seen the flare of reluctant interest in the elder twin’s darkened eyes. 

Kissing Elladan lightly, Erestor gave him a gentle push. “Go find a servant to bring a fresh tray, then, and I will speak to ‘Rohir.” At Elladan’s look of alarm, he said soothingly, “I will ask him to join us for a bite and a toast, and we will see.” 

It was not the whole truth, perhaps, but near enough. 

“Go on, now,” Erestor prodded. “We need more wine and food if we are to share our celebration with another.” Heading for Elrohir’s door, he turned back to Elladan, a faint smile curving his lips. “Oh, and ’Adan?” 

The elder twin paused, one hand on the door latch. “Aye?” 

Erestor looked pointedly at the faint dusting of hair that descended from Elladan’s navel to disappear under a fall of rich blue silk. 

“You might want to straighten your robe before you go.” 

************* 

Elrohir left the tub reluctantly, horrifically ashamed of both his outburst and the astonishing realization that had prompted it. He toweled himself distractedly, his attention wandering again and again to the door that led into his brother’s bedchamber. Had Elladan and Erestor retreated to the privacy of Elladan’s bed? Were they even now tangled together with that sense of casual intimacy, perhaps discussing Elrohir’s extraordinary behavior? Or had the interruption been little more than a nuisance, now forgotten amidst the rising heat? 

Elrohir glanced again at the door, the temptation to push it open an almost tangible presence beside him. There was no bolt. There had never been need for one. 

Shaking himself sharply, Elrohir threw down his towel with a muttered oath and turned back toward the door into his own bedchamber. He needed food and sleep, though he thought the latter likely to be scarce for many nights to come. He stalked from the bathing chamber, then snatched up the edge of his bed’s deep grey coverlet with a yelp of surprise. 

Erestor was sitting in the overstuffed chair beside the fireplace. Though clad in nothing but a robe of deep red silk, the counselor seemed as comfortable as though he were in his own rooms. 

“What are you doing in here?” Elrohir demanded, trying unsuccessfully to shield his bare body with the intricately quilted fabric. 

“I came to talk to you,” Erestor replied calmly, helpfully tossing Elrohir’s robe toward the bed. “But I must admit that I did not expect you to be naked.” 

Elrohir slipped into his robe, drawing the gleaming black silk closed snugly. “And I did not expect company,” he retorted crisply, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. “I am tired, Erestor. Go back to Elladan and...” 

“You desire your brother,” Erestor interrupted gently. “I saw it in your eyes when he touched you.” 

“You are insane,” Elrohir snapped hoarsely, cursing the flush that burned his ears. “Get out.” 

“And what will you do?” Erestor asked, unfazed by the elf-knight’s curt rebuttal. “Flee again into the wild? Attack Elladan every time he seeks to embrace you?” The counselor shook his head. “Did you not see the hurt in his eyes? He had his dearest wish granted with your return, only to have his welcome thrust aside in anger.” 

“Get out!” 

“He does not understand.” 

“Neither do I,” Elrohir whispered tiredly, unable to find the energy to protest again. “Please, Erestor, just _go_.” 

“No,” Erestor said, coming to kneel beside his forlorn companion, meeting the elf-knight's downcast eyes. “I will not. Let me help you, ‘Rohir.” 

Elrohir laughed bitterly. “How? Have you some potion or spell to cure me?” 

“Perhaps,” Erestor said quietly, reaching up to caress Elrohir’s cheek. “Come and join us, young one. I cannot give you your brother, but I can allow the two of you to share _me_.” 

The confusion swirling in Elrohir’s eyes gave way to anguished dismay. “He knows?” The elf-knight’s face blanched. “How _could_ you? How will I look...” 

“Shhh...shhh,” Erestor crooned soothingly, rising to sit beside Elrohir. “He knows nothing, except that I am asking you to share a midnight meal and a bottle of wine with us, in celebration of the season. He has no idea that I have suggested anything further.” 

Prevarication, Erestor thought wryly, was a quickly honed talent. 

Elrohir shook his head, something akin to panic swelling in his chest. “I cannot,” he began, “I dare not...” 

“’Adan has gone for a tray, and you are expected,” Erestor said firmly, standing and pulling the elf-knight to his feet. “He will be heartbroken if you do not join us. He has suffered with your absence, ‘Rohir.” 

His refusal ignored, his excuses pushed aside without comment, Elrohir found himself slowly following Erestor back into the sitting room, his heart pounding in his throat. For the first time in memory, he dreaded his brother’s company. 

Elladan sat on the fur-strewn floor near the fireplace, emptying a tray laden with covered dishes and napkin draped baskets onto a low table pulled up near the hearth. Elrohir could smell ginger cookies and the sharp, pungent tang of aged cheese. The warm scent of yeast rolls and melting butter rose from a basket just uncovered, and another dish held a mound of strawberries, their green tops still intact. A newly opened bottle of wine stood beside three waiting goblets. 

“Sit down, tôren,” Elladan said easily, brushing away Elrohir’s fumbling apology with a wave of his hand. “You must be famished. Had I known you were near, I would have provided a more appropriate welcome.” 

The genuine warmth of Elladan’s smile and the twinkle of amusement in his eyes did much to soothe Elrohir’s discomfort, though the elf-knight made a point of sitting on the far side of Erestor, where he was safe from his brother’s unsettling touches. 

Erestor was tact itself, encouraging Elrohir’s stories of his journey and supporting Elladan’s humorously exaggerated claims of loneliness, but always turning their conversation back to the unshakable foundation of their relationship and the cheerful promise of the season. 

The food was soon gone and the first bottle of wine followed by a second, then a third. Elrohir smiled tolerantly as Elladan moved closer and closer to Erestor, finally settling himself comfortably against one silk-clad shoulder. There was no seductive intent on his brother’s part, of that the elf-knight was sure, for he had, himself, often been on the receiving end of such chaste snuggling. 

Elladan was, as his intimates well knew, an affectionate drunk. 

Then, suddenly, Elrohir’s heart was pounding in his chest, his sense of safety stripped away by the lazy, breathtakingly sensual kiss being shared by his companions. 

While Elladan’s wallowing might be innocent, Erestor obviously had more than cuddling in mind. 

Elrohir tensed, would have jumped up and fled the room, were it not for Erestor’s unyielding grip on his wrist. He heard the muted murmur of two voices and then a warm hand cupped his cheek, holding his head firmly, offering no escape from the lips that brushed his mouth repeatedly, immersing him in the scent and taste of Elladan that lingered on Erestor’s breath. 

“Stay...” 

The entreaty was nearly lost beneath the flurry of tender nibbles and nips, but it did not matter. Elrohir sensed the faint whisper of Elladan’s cautious acquiescence and he leaned into the kiss eagerly, closing his mind to all but the warm, aching hunger that quickly enveloped him. He tangled one hand in the heavy mass of Erestor’s hair, his fingers finding the sensitive tip of an ear and rubbing it repeatedly, drawing a hum of approval from Erestor’s throat. 

The carefully impersonal curling of fingers around his forearm took him aback for an instant, then his hand was placed on Erestor’s thigh and Elrohir opened his eyes to find his brother’s face little more than a breath away. Elladan’s cheeks were flushed with spirits and building desire and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he licked and nuzzled Erestor’s ear. 

Elrohir thought he had never seen anything more beautiful, or more frightening. 

“What?” Elladan teased unrepentantly, taking his twin’s stare as one of questioning affront. “If you are going to play, you _do_ have to share your toys, you know.” 

Erestor felt Elrohir stiffen beside him, knew that the good-natured barb had lodged far deeper than Elladan could understand. _“Someone,”_ Erestor said with mock severity, pushing Elladan unceremoniously back onto the piled furs, “has had as much wine as is good for him.” Elladan went down easily, his tipsy snickering turning to a pleasured groan as Erestor’s mouth latched onto his neck and insistent fingers pushed aside his robe to trace the sleekly defined muscles of his chest. 

Elrohir swallowed thickly, his wine-blurred senses bombarding him with a disconcerting rush of sights, sounds, and smells. He felt again the urge to flee as pale skin replaced blue silk beneath Erestor’s hand, but found himself struck motionless, hypnotized by the faint flush crawling down Elladan’s chest. By breathless whispers of encouragement and the deep rumble of Erestor’s murmured reply. By the delicate but unmistakable scent of growing arousal that seeped through the fire-warmed air. 

Then the world spun and Elrohir was once again drowning in Elladan, the taste and smell and warmth of him carried on Erestor’s lips and tongue and fingers. The elf-knight caught but a glimpse of Elladan’s face, a brief flash of midnight-dark eyes carefully guarded and bruised lips gleaming with moisture, then he was borne to the floor by the press of Erestor’s weight, his robe vanquished by nimble fingers as his mouth was invaded by a wickedly skillful tongue. The flavor of Elladan that clung to Erestor weakened and at last faded, allowing Elrohir to regain a hint of composure amid the chaos. Erestor pulled away slightly to lick and nip a line from jaw to throat to chest, and Elrohir closed his eyes, his hands fisting loosely in the veil of dark hair that slithered and drifted across his body. A moment later Erestor chuckled, the vibrations raising goosebumps on the elf-knight’s body, and Elrohir’s eyes flew open to find Elladan unexpectedly near, his head bent to nuzzle the nape of Erestor’s neck, the counselor’s robe already reduced to a ball of rumpled red silk in the elder twin’s hands. 

Erestor shivered, shifting restlessly as Elladan’s mouth moved downward, pressing wet kisses along the length of his back, ending with a teasing flutter of the tongue at the very base of his spine. Erestor yelped, then, bucking at the tickling sensation, and suddenly Elladan went still, his attention focused on his own hand, which had dropped from Erestor’s hip to splay across Elrohir’s bare thigh, landing little more than a finger’s width from the sparse sprinkling of hair that marked the juncture of leg and groin. 

Elrohir froze, as well, watching his brother’s face, then closed his eyes against a rush of despair when Elladan snatched the hand back as though scalded. 

The moment was not lost on Erestor, either, and he dropped a smattering of tender kisses over Elrohir’s face, murmuring reassurances too quiet for even Elladan’s keen hearing to decipher. Catching the elder twin’s hand in his own, Erestor drew it to his lips, brushing a kiss across the palm before gently pulling away from Elladan. “I want you to watch,” he murmured, meeting Elladan’s start of surprise with a lascivious grin. “Just watch.” Erestor’s grin broadened at the flash of mutiny in Elladan’s eyes. “For the moment, that is, ‘Adan,” he qualified, biting back an uncharacteristically inelegant snort. “Not for the evening.” 

Elrohir did not know what he had expected when Erestor made his most surprising offer, but it was not this. Even the thoughts of Elladan - the horror and yearning and hopeless shame that had assailed him in his brother’s innocent, welcoming embrace, when the reason for the running became frightfully clear - faded under the skillful attention of Erestor’s hands and mouth. Elrohir writhed and gasped and moaned, his eyes closed, his mind filled with an explosion of sound and smell and taste and touch. Filled with crackling fire and affectionate cooing and rasping breaths not his own, with wine and smoke and ginger and strawberries...with soft lips and sharp teeth and strong fingers and incredible pleasure. 

Insistent hands urged his knees up and back and he opened his legs obediently, keening with approval as a warm, wet mouth engulfed him and slick fingers pushed into his body. Then there was a forceful jolt, then another, followed by a heartfelt groan that reverberated from Elrohir’s groin to the very ends of his hair, and he might have spent, had the sudden grip at the base of his aching shaft been any less tight. The jolts quickly became rhythmic thrusts and the fingers breaching his body took on their pace, driving into him with the same escalating beat, matched by the hot, silken glide of Erestor’s mouth. 

It was too much to bear. 

Elrohir let out a wordless howl, his back arching reflexively as his release slammed into him without warning. Erestor’s mouth was on his, then, and there were curses and groans and a sudden press of weight on his still- raised knees, and the scent of Elladan surrounded him once more. The pounding thrusts, now erratic, rocked Elrohir’s blissfully limp body, and through his fugue he was aware of the hard press of Erestor’s arousal against his stomach, aware of the fingers that curled around it and the spurt of scalding fluid that splattered his belly a mere heartbeat before Elladan’s ragged groan reached his ears. 

Caught under the near crushing weight of two limp bodies, Elrohir let his eyes flutter open, his earlier unease returning with a vengeance as he met Elladan’s passion darkened gaze in the instant before the elder twin moved away. 

Erestor felt the sudden tension and sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to Elrohir’s mouth before rolling over to offer the same to Elladan. Drawing one of the lighter furs up to cover their legs, Erestor pulled both of the twins close, a dark head cradled on each shoulder. His eyes closed, he let his thoughts wander, running his fingers idly through Elrohir’s sweat-damp hair. 

Elrohir snuggled into the affectionate caress gratefully, but his contentment was short lived, destroyed by the unintentional brush of his own fingers against Elladan’s stomach. Pulling his hand away, he met his brother’s seemingly expressionless eyes squarely, the ready apology on his lips belying the ache in his chest. “I did not mean...” he began, the words fading away in amazement as Elladan reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers before settling their joined hands back against his own hip. 

“Goodnight, tôren,” Elladan whispered, paying no heed to Elrohir’s astonishment. His eyes fluttering closed, he murmured, “Joyous Yule.” 

“Goodnight, ‘Dan,” Elrohir managed at last, unable to tear his gaze from their clasped hands. “Joyous Yule.” 

Watching the twins from beneath lowered lashes, Erestor smiled. _Joyous Yule._

Perhaps it was, after all. 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 


End file.
